And Everything Changes
by onceuponapurpleplatypus
Summary: Five years ago, when Kurt moved to New York, he left behind everything he knew in Lima, Ohio-including Blaine. He comes back to Ohio for the first time to revive his friendship with Blaine, only to find out that a lot of things change in five years.


And Everything Changes

Kurt isn't prepared for the customer that accompanies the cool summer breeze through the door of The Lima Bean.

The man has a small mop of dark curly hair, eyes somewhere between brown and gold, and he's as familiar to Kurt as his own reflection.

Kurt swallows the sip of coffee he began to take and sets his cup down, staring in front of him with shock as the man strides through the coffee shop. Sure, maybe this was the main reason Kurt came back to visit Ohio, but that doesn't mean he believed he'd actually see him.

It's been five years since Kurt last saw Blaine, but the latter hasn't changed much. He has a small amount of stubble on his face, and he doesn't use as much hair gel as he did in high school—but he looks like the same boy that Kurt was once in love with.

An unexpected desire to run suddenly grips Kurt as Blaine comes closer to his table. He isn't ready for this. What if Blaine acts cold toward him? Or worse, what if Blaine pretends he doesn't know him? Kurt doesn't want to find out. He'd rather give up and never know how Blaine would have reacted than see that Blaine doesn't want anything to do with him.

Kurt is about to get out of his seat and leave when Blaine turns his head—and locks eyes with Kurt.

He stops walking. His eyes widen, and he stares blankly in front of him, unable to register. Kurt is frozen, trapped under Blaine's gaze like a rabbit cornered by a fox. _Shit. He hates me and he's going to give me hell and it's too late to disappear now and this is all my fault I shouldn't have come here what the hell was I thinking, dammit—_

"_Kurt_?"

The word brims with disbelief and confusion and maybe a little bit of pain. Or maybe Kurt is imagining the touch of pain that he hears woven into Blaine's voice.

Kurt drowns in the wave of relief that crashes over him. _Blaine isn't ignoring me. He isn't pretending he doesn't remember me. He's not walking away. He's looking at me and he's saying my name and he's here._

That by itself feels like a blessing.

"Hi, Blaine." Kurt's voice comes out a lot more calm and confident than he feels. He doesn't understand how he manages to keep it steady, because inside he is shaking. "Long time no see."

"I know. It's been what, five years?" The careful way Blaine forms the words, the way he exaggerates the nonchalance, makes it clear that he's trying his hardest to be casual. It makes Kurt feel a little better that maybe Blaine's just as ruffled up on the inside as him.

"Yeah. Five years." It didn't feel like five years. It felt like five centuries, five millenniums of Kurt trying to convince himself he was over Blaine and pretending that he wasn't thinking of the other man every time he was alone.

Blaine takes the last few steps to Kurt's table and gestures to the lone seat in front of him. "Can I sit down?"

"Of course."

Blaine sits. Kurt doesn't know what to think of Blaine being so close to him after he was nothing but a flickering memory in Kurt's mind for years. He can't comprehend that he's seeing Blaine right here, in front of him, talking with him in The Lima Bean like it's only been a day since they did it last.

He searches for a glimmer of the familiar warmth in Blaine's expression, any sign of the old connection between them, but he finds nothing. And that scares him.

"Kurt," Blaine says again, as if he can't think of anything else to say. But then he continues. "What are you doing here?"

"I'm visiting for a few weeks. I just wanted to see my hometown again, see if any old faces remember me … And visit my dad for a change so he doesn't have to be the one to always fly over to New York to see me."

"That makes sense." Blaine gives a slight shake of his head. "My God, it's been so long. How … how have you been?"

"Good." _Sort of_.

"Good, that's good. Um … How's New York?"

The awkwardness of the conversation pricks at Kurt's skin. He doesn't like how hard it is to talk to Blaine. When did that happen? "It's great. Amazing. I love it." If things were the same between them as they were five years ago, Kurt would expand on that. He would gush about his new life and spill out a story to Blaine. But five years have passed. Things aren't the same.

If things were the same between them as they were five years ago, he would ask Kurt more questions about New York, about his life. He would delve deeper. But five years have passed. Things aren't the same.

Kurt bites his lip and tries to ignore the emotions churning through his stomach. "So what about you, Blaine? How have things been here for you?"

"Things have been good." For some reason, Blaine can't meet Kurt's eyes anymore. They flicker down to the table and stare at the patterns in the wood. "College was great. I graduated last year with a BA in Journalism."

Kurt gets the feeling that Blaine hasn't been as happy as he's letting on. He cares, but he knows he won't get anything if he pries. So he ignores his gut, even though it kills him to do so. "Congratulations! Good for you."

The exchange is very cordial. _Too_cordial. It's detached and distant. They are separated by much more than a foot of table. Kurt can't stand it.

_This was a mistake. I should have never come here. I would have been better off never seeing him again, and just imagining how meeting him after all these years would have gone. I would have been better off with a hope that things could have been the same if we ever met again. Now I've lost both him and that hope._

Blaine attempts to pick the dead conversation back up again. "So … are you waiting for anyone?"

"No. I'm just by myself today." Kurt doesn't tell Blaine that ever since they drifted apart, he's been going to coffee shops alone and staring at the empty seat in front of him, envisioning Blaine there, envisioning them talking the way they used to. "Are you here alone too?"

"No, I'm actually waiting for someone." Again, Blaine avoids Kurt's gaze.

Kurt remembers that Blaine wasn't able to look at Kurt when he talked about college. A sinking dread settles over him, but Kurt manages to keep his tone placid as he responds. "Oh, who? A friend?"

Blaine's eyes stay on the table. "Uh, yes. Well … Something like that."

Kurt's insides twist into a knot. It's so obvious, _so obvious_, and Kurt doesn't know why he didn't think of that before. Of _course_Blaine found someone else in the time that has passed since Kurt left. Just because Kurt hasn't been able to move on doesn't mean it's the same for Blaine.

Kurt tries to ignore how much that bothers him, tries to ignore how his intestines have seemed to turn into pieces of glass.

He didn't notice the door opening a moment ago, but now a new customer is walking toward them. Kurt doesn't pay much attention to her until he realizes that Blaine's looking at her and she's looking at him and they're smiling at each other.

_No. This can't … can't be happening all over again. It can't be true. She must be just some other friend of his who happened to see Blaine just now and she didn't know he was going to be here._

His desperate thoughts dissolve as the young woman reaches their table and kisses Blaine.

Kurt can't do anything but sit and stare in horror. When Blaine and the woman pull apart, Blaine turns to Kurt. He's holding her hand, and there's … there's a ring on the fourth finger of her left hand.

"Kurt, this is Sara … My fiancée."

Blaine wears a strange expression when he says it. It looks like he's holding back a grimace. But Kurt isn't pulled together enough to think anything of it. He's suddenly set apart from everything going around him, in a different world than the one in the coffee shop. He's looking down on himself, watching someone else, and the sounds and bustle of The Lima Bean is coming from the opposite end of a long tunnel, and he can't hear Blaine's voice anymore.

And then he can't take it anymore. His hands are pushing himself up from his seat, his mouth is mumbling an apologetic dismissal to Blaine, and his legs are carrying him away from the table, away from the man who used to be his best friend, away the man who was once his boyfriend, away from the man whom he was supposed to have a future with. Away from the man whom he still loves more than anyone he's ever loved in his entire life.

It is only when the coffee shop is long behind him that he lets his broken hopes spill down his cheeks.


End file.
